Oops I Banged the CEO novel Chapter 145

Yvonne hurried down the stairs, her steps quick and unsteady. Only after taking several deep breaths in the entryway did she finally begin to calm herself.

They always say you see someone’s true colors in times of trouble—well, she’d definitely worn her heart on her sleeve tonight.

“Yvonne, get a grip!” she muttered to herself, squaring her shoulders as she made her way to the kitchen, determined to distract herself with cooking.

Roughly twenty minutes later, Marico came downstairs.

The once quiet, almost sterile house was now filled with the comforting aroma of something simmering on the stove.

Yvonne couldn’t resist pulling out her phone and searching on Google: *If a woman confesses first, will a man take her seriously?*

She scrolled through dozens of answers—some hopeful, some discouraging—which only made her mind even more of a mess.

“Is it ready?” Marico’s deep, cool voice sounded behind her.

Yvonne glanced over her shoulder, hastily locked her phone, and stuffed it into her pocket. “Yeah, it’s ready.”

Marico was dressed in dark loungewear, his black hair still damp and falling softly over his forehead. Without his businesslike suit and tie, he looked more relaxed, but there was still an air of quiet authority about him.

Worried he might be hungry, Yvonne found a large bowl and started to serve him first.

Her wrists were raw from where the ropes had dug in earlier, and as she lifted the first forkful of noodles, a bit of hot broth splashed onto her injured skin.

She winced, unable to stifle a sharp gasp.

Marico quickly strode over and took the fork and bowl from her hands. “Let me do it.”

“It’s fine, really. I’m not that fragile,” Yvonne protested, reluctant to let go.

Given his status, having him do something so trivial made her uncomfortable—and, truth be told, her upbringing left her feeling a little old-fashioned about these things.

Yvonne didn’t dare think too much about it. Just minutes earlier, she’d read online that if a man really loves you, he’ll be the first to confess. But their arrangement was supposed to be simple—just friends with benefits. Suddenly talking about feelings felt impossibly complicated.

While she was lost in her thoughts, Marico spoke again, his voice low as he looked down at her, eyes intent. “If serving you dinner is so beneath me, then what about all those other times I’ve waited on you personally? What does that count as, hm?”

Yvonne felt her cheeks flush at the implication, biting her lip even harder.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, turning away as if preoccupied, washing her hands and tidying up the counter.

Marico watched her fussing about, a faint smile lingering on his lips.

“I don’t eat much, so you should take a bigger serving,” Yvonne mumbled from behind him, still busying herself at the sink.

“Still running away from things, Yvonne?” he replied, filling her a smaller bowl as he spoke.